Of Suits and Bolo Hats
by Blackbirdox
Summary: Ariadne provides her advice on what Arthur should wear on his wedding day.


**Disclaimer: It's not mine. Never has been, never will be.**

**Summary: AU in which Ariadne really likes suits and bolo hats and offers Arthur advice on which suit to buy for his wedding. **

**Pairings: Implied Arthur/Eames, implied Ariadne/Mal, Arthur/Ariadne friendship**

**A/N: Um, this is really just crack. I got the idea, and it screamed to be written. One day, I will start writing serious fics for this fandom again. I promise.**

"I still think you should go with the navy blue," Ariadne pipes up from her perch on the arm of the nearest chair, plopping a ridiculous looking white bolo hat onto her head. "It's less serious looking."

Arthur grits his teeth and adjusts the lapels of his coat. "I need to look serious."

"Well you don't have to look like you're going to a funeral. Blue says serious without looking morbid."

"Black is _classic_", Arthur stresses as he attempts to slick back his hair into a more put together look, trying to hide the pieces that are beginning to curl up on the back of his neck. "I… I look ridiculous."

Ariadne tilts her head to the side. "You _could_ lose the bow tie."

Arthur does, and then he frowns. "This still doesn't look right."

Huffing, Ariadne pulls herself to her feet and thrusts another garment bag into Arthur's hand. "I'm telling you. Go with the blue. That's what I did, remember?"

Arthur chuckles fondly at the memory. "How could I forget? Blue suit and bright red pumps. Mal never looked so proud."

"See? You shouldn't have to sacrifice who you are."

"I know," Arthur sighs, fiddling with the discarded bow tie. "I'm not trying to. I just want to look nice."

Ariadne snorts. "You _do _look nice, Arthur. Eames isn't going to change his mind just because you're not wearing some alter boy's bow tie and cummerbund."

The very tips of Arthur's cheeks flush as he takes another look at himself in the mirror, dressed to the nines in a Lanvin tuxedo complete with a pocket square and patent leather shoes. "Are you sure the blue isn't too casual?" he asks, trying to remember if the blue suit he has at home looks anything like the one concealed in the garment bag in his hands.

"Yes, I'm sure it's not too casual," Ariadne responds with a roll of her eyes. "It's a nice suit Arthur."

He eventually concedes with a small huff of his own and steps back into the dressing room to change into Ariadne's pick. It _is _a nice suit- navy blue vintage Prada that fits so well, it appears to have been tailored just for him. He straightens out the waistcoat and does a small turn to inspect the back in the mirror, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile.

Before he has a chance to step out, Ariadne is squeezing her way in, and she lets out a low whistle of appreciation. "Nice."

"You could have knocked first."

"Please," she snorts. "I know you're not that modest."

She steps up behind him and smoothes out a few of the creases that line the back of the pants. "So?"

"I like it."

Her pretty face lights up with a grin, and she presses the tips of her fingers to her lips as if holding back a squeal. "_So?_"

"I'll take it."

"Oh, Arthur!" Ariadne lets out a happy squeak as she throws herself at him, winding her tiny arms around his neck. "You're getting married!"

Arthur laughs and holds onto her tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "You've known this for a long time."

"I know, I know." Ariadne reaches up and dabs the wetness away from her eyes, offering him a watery smile. "But it's so _final_ now."

"It was always final…"

"Oh, shut up. I can't help but be excited." She leans up onto the tips of her toes and slings an arm around his shoulder, transferring her bolo hat over onto his head. "You look so dashing, darling," she says in her best imitation of Eames' voice. "Ravishing. Utterly handsome."

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Arthur chuckles, playfully shoving her off.

As he begins to- carefully- remove his suit and place it back on the hanger, he glances over his shoulder at Ariadne, whose eyeing another one of his discarded garment bags.

"You know," he says, slinging his suit over his shoulder, "Gray always had been a really nice color on you."

Ariadne's eyes lit up as she steps forward and grabs the bag, cradling it to her chest. "Really?"

"Really."

"…Can I keep the hat?"


End file.
